


Overworked and Overcaffienated

by taylor_tut



Category: White Collar
Genre: Exhaustion, Gen, Overworking, Protective Elizabeth Burke, Protective Peter Burke, Sickfic, exhausted neal caffrey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16093253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylor_tut/pseuds/taylor_tut
Summary: Another prompt from my tumblr, this time for Neal caffienating himself into oblivion and then crashing at the Burkes' house. Kind of literally.





	Overworked and Overcaffienated

"Neal, knock it off," Peter snapped, kicking Neal's bouncing, jittering leg under the dinner table, which earned a glare from Elizabeth. 

"Be nice to him, Peter," she scolded, "you're the one who gave him so much work that he's been awake for two days. He's had a lot of coffee, haven't you, sweetie?" 

Neal smiled at her sheepishly, in that sort of feux-humble way that he did when he knew that there was nothing he could say that could waver El's sympathy. She was right, Peter knew—they'd been at this case for a week, but it had gotten hot only in the past two days, and though neither of them had taken many breaks, Neal's work was definitely more exhausting than his own, considering he'd been undercover three times in as many days. 

"Sorry," Neal apologized, "I'm just antsy. Coffee."

Peter tightened his jaw at the slightly disjointed response and looked Neal over for the first time that week, really, not liking what he found. Neal was pale and struggling to pull his eyes open after every blink, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Are you okay?" El asked, glancing down at Neal's still-full plate. Both she and Peter had already finished their own meals, but Neal had merely pushed his food around. "You've barely eaten anything."

Neal flashed her another smile, this one confident and reassuring. "I had a big lunch," he lied, but Peter wasn't buying it.

"No, you didn't," he argued. "You had half a break-room bagel in the car on the way to the stakeout." 

Neal sighed. "Fine," he rolled his eyes, "so I haven't eaten much today. I'm just not hungry. Don't worry about it."

"El was just asking if you were alright," Peter defended, in response to which Neal looked mortified, then rubbed his face hard with his hands.

"Sorry, El," he apologized again, "I didn't mean to be rude. Thank you for dinner; it really was delicious. I'm just tired."

El rubbed the back of his neck and pouted at Peter. "Well, I'll send you home with some leftovers," she offered, "in case you're hungry later."

"Thanks," he said tiredly, pushing out his chair. "Speaking of, I should get going. Early day tomorrow, and I still have to look over the case a few more times before I go to bed." 

As he stood, the exhaustion and lack of ingesting any food or liquid that wasn't coffee both caught up with him in probably equal measure, slamming him with a vertigo spell that nearly took him off his feet; would have if El hadn't pushed him back against the wall to keep him from falling forward into the dining room table. Peter was already up and at Neal's side, helping El to steady him and keeping his head up when it lolled forward a bit, his eyes fluttering.

"Woah, hey," Peter called, "easy; sit back down." Neal allowed himself to be led to the couch, nearly tripping over feet he couldn't be bothered to pick up all the way to walk.

"Peter, should we take him to the hospital?" El fretted. "Could he have been hurt? Could someone have slipped him something?" 

Peter shook his head, knowing that Neal's undercover missions had gone off without a hitch and that he hadn't had any altercations. 

"He's just exhausted and overcaffienated," he reassured. 

"Sorry about that," Neal mumbled, his eyes barely open. 

"Enough apologizing," Peter scolded gently.

"Sorry," Neal said without thinking. "I'll just go home and sleep this off."

El was already unfolding the quilt from the top of the couch and draping it over him.

"You're not going anywhere," she said, tucking him in tightly. Neal looked uncertainly at Peter, who shrugged.

"Don't look at me like I call the shots, here," he said. "Whatever El says goes." 

Neal huffed an exhausted laugh. "Thanks, El," he said, "and Peter. I appreciate it."

Peter clapped a hand over his shoulder before following his wife out of the room. "Just get some sleep," he instructed. "Early morning tomorrow, remember?" Neal nodded, then turned onto his side and fell asleep immediately. 

 


End file.
